A princess lays in a bed composed of wool shorn from clouds that look like sheep.
I live in a world made for me! My palace. My mirror twin thought it for me long, long ago.
The mirror twin knows not of the princess, but the palace does. The palace thinks around the clock. The palace is changing.
It has changed once more! What fun!
The princess cannot bore. New fun must be devised, lest the palace fall.
I've seen this room before. The mirror is here, behind the curtain, under the stars.
And it is.
Why am I here again?
The palace shakes.
In the mirror is my twin. We stare, but he does not see me.
We talk, and he replies. The princess tires. The palace shakes.
Give me a new room, please?
The palace requires more time. More time. Time. Mirror twin must rest.
Why can't he see me? Does he pretend?
The palace shakes. In the sky, above the mirror, a star falls.
I tire of this world. I wish to join him.
My walls buckle under the pressure. They cannot hold. The princess tires of the distraction. The palace crumbles. The mirror cracks.
Behind the mirror, between the crack, he sees me.
And I see her.